


The View From the Top

by SakuraChiyo



Category: Bleach
Genre: Abarai Ichika - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, It's all fluffy happy family vibes, RenRuki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SakuraChiyo/pseuds/SakuraChiyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A three-part series of drabbles about the Kuchiki-Abarai family, revolving around Ichika’s fostered love of heights and her relationship with her family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 144 cm

            As soon as Ichika could support the weight of her own head and sit up by herself, Rukia preferred carrying her daughter on her shoulders. There were a number of reasons for this, though Renji would have had anyone believe it was just so that Ichika wouldn’t feel the pain of being as short as Rukia’s 144 centimeters any longer than necessary (earning him a swift kick to the shin on more than one occasion).

            He wasn’t wrong that it made it easier for Rukia to show off her treasure. Nearly everyone she knew was taller than her. As a result, it did make it less awkward for people to admire Ichika when they didn’t have to bend down to affectionately pat the baby’s head or touch her bright red hair when she wasn’t strapped to her mother’s chest. When she was still a newborn, Rukia used to proudly hold Ichika up high to introduce her, as though she were a grand prize to be displayed for the whole world to see.

            It also left her with at least one free hand to do other things. If Rukia had Ichika sitting on her shoulders, she could do everything from sifting through paperwork to hand her subordinates some pressing document to preparing her daughter’s clothes for the day. And oh, the clothes! It took Rukia a grand total of approximately ten seconds after finding out she was having a girl to realize that the possibilities for Chappy-themed merchandise for her baby were now endless. Chappy blankets! Books about Chappy! Bibs with Chappy faces! A baby mobile with hopping bunnies! Teensy hoodies with _rabbit ears!_ If Rukia didn’t have a free hand, then how else could she reach up and throw the hood over Ichika’s head before showing her off to everyone?

            Of course, should the need ever arise for Rukia to defend herself and her daughter from an adversary, having a hand with which to dispel a choice _kidou_ spell was crucial. Not to mention that it only took one hand to draw Sode no Shirayuki from its sheath. Most importantly, it kept Ichika just a little further from the danger. However, she had yet to come across anything more threatening than Renji charging towards them in greeting, which was more often than not a welcomed hug.

            But in that situation, Ichika being on her shoulders was even more perfect. Renji could wrap one arm around Rukia’s shoulders to bring her into the embrace, and with the other hand reach for Ichika to give her a kiss on the head.  Their sizes matched up perfectly. Rukia was just the right height to wrap her arms around Renji’s waist, while Ichika could easily stretch out her little arms to hold on to the front of her dad’s _shihakushou_ in as big a hug as she could muster.

            In those quiet moments of peace in the middle of her hectic days of being a lieutenant leading a captain-less squad as well as a new mother, Rukia firmly believed that there was no place she’d rather her daughter be.


	2. 180 cm

            Anyone who cared to look past Captain Kuchiki’s stoic and fairly intimidating exterior knew that he was unexpectedly good with children. Or at least, he was adept at _handling_ them. One had but to remember how he’d take care of the pink-haired lieutenant of Squad 11 in seconds with an immediate, almost subconscious, offering of candy. A single piece casually tossed to the opposite direction he was walking to get Yachiru to chase it; a bag of sweets flung out the window to get her to bound like a cannon out of the Kuchiki manor.

            Renji knew it. Rukia _certainly_ knew it. She was _proud_ to know that her brother had a soft spot that most people didn’t believe existed. But that hadn’t prepared either of them for the moment they visited Byakuya in his study at the manor to give him the news.

* * *

 

            They had been seated on cushions in the center of the room, a small table dividing Byakuya from Rukia and Renji on opposite sides. Anyone could guess why they were there, why the newlywed couple were fidgeting, giving each other sidelong glances and gestures that the other should say something. Anyone with a developed sensitivity for spiritual pressure could sense that Rukia’s aura no longer encompassed only one lifeform. Byakuya had sat patiently, finding a quiet amusement in their hesitation, though he kept his face neutral. He had known that Rukia wouldn’t be so tentative to deliver the news to him that she was with child, if not for the fact that _Renji_ had looked as though he were ready to pass out from the uncertainty, not knowing how his captain would react. Finally, Rukia had huffed impatiently and scooted forward infinitesimally, opening her mouth to speak.

            “Nii-sama, we wanted you to be the first to know. I’m…” Rukia had paused, gathering the composure to say it, “I’m going to have a baby! _We’re_ ,” she corrected, beaming at her husband beside her, “going to have a baby!” She had shifted her weight again, looking eagerly to her brother for his reaction.

            Figuring it out for himself had been one thing—hearing it directly from his younger sister’s mouth, rather another. He had felt the breath leave him in awe. They had come so far in the decades of their relationship. From a strained, cold fraternity to fearing for and treasuring her life more than anything else in this world, they had now arrived here. They had become so close that Rukia and her chosen partner for life had chosen to share their joy with _him_ first. And that partner had gone from being an arrogant thorn in his side that he thought nothing of to the man whom he trusted most to jointly lead their squad. What could even be said at such a crossroads?

            “…I see.”

            Renji had snorted a short huff of air in disbelief at that lackluster reply, but stopped himself from retorting when Rukia had quelled him with a look that said ‘wait’.

            They had sat in a tense silence for a few breaths that felt like one hundred before Byakuya added, inclining his head at Rukia, and saying evenly, “I can think of no one more suited to motherhood.”

            Rukia had glowed from the praise, clasping her hands together, fighting the joyous tears that threatened to flow down her cheeks. She had been about to respond when Byakuya continued, addressing the man beside her:

            “And I know you will protect that which is most precious to you, as always.”

            Renji’s jaw had dropped, his mouth open, wordless. Even with Rukia now grasping his hand, looking at him like he was the most wonderful thing in the world, and Byakuya calmly raising his tea to his lips to take a sip, all he could do was bow his head in thanks and choke out, “I will.”

* * *

 

            Now, nearly five years later, Byakuya found himself in the same room on babysitting duty. It wasn’t a _chore_ , and it never felt like one. Though Byakuya was not the most skilled at expressing emotion, and though he wouldn’t even know how to say it out loud, he _adored_ Ichika. Watching her run around the gardens, hacking at dangerous-looking plants with her wooden sword was the height of entertainment. It was astounding, really. Had another child done the same, trampling on the edges of the perfectly manicured flower beds, he would have found it irritating and certainly would have put an end to it. But Ichika? He’d replant the flowers _himself_ if it came to it. Better that than to see her wistful for her stomping grounds.

            Ichika was lying on the floor behind his chair now, doodling with some crayons from the World of the Living. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her deep in concentration, using the green crayon to draw as lifelike a portrait as she could of her doll: a custom-made Seaweed Ambassador. Since he’d gifted it to her on her third birthday, she carried it everywhere. Byakuya felt no small amount of amusement from the exasperation he saw in Renji as he witnessed his daughter cuddle the character of her uncle’s creation while dressed in the rabbit-themed clothes chosen by her mother. Hmph. Well. At least Ichika had inherited her sense of taste from the family with the stronger aesthetic sensitivity.

            They sat there is relative quiet, peacefully doing their own work for thirty minutes or so before Byakuya felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see Ichika pouting at him, her doll in hand. She released his sleeve only to raise her hands towards him imperiously. He nodded, putting down his writing brush. Somehow, Rukia had raised her daughter to prefer sitting on someone’s shoulders to anything else. Byakuya was used to this.

            He gripped his niece securely under her arms, swinging her around midair in a practiced motion as she moved her legs to squarely situate herself on his shoulders. Once he was sure that Ichika was comfortable, Byakuya bent back down to finish the paperwork he was looking over.  He barely noticed as the little girl played with his hair, particularly focused on the _kenseikan_ he’d started wearing again recently.

            She tapped, wiggled, pushed them to figure them out. What on earth? These were nothing like the bandanas her dad wore. She could take those out, no problem! But _oji-sama_ ’s bandana just—wouldn’t—come out!

            After several minutes of her tugging and loosening the hair that was securing them to Byakuya’s head, they eventually slid forward to dangle helplessly in front of his face. Ichika straightened proudly, satisfied with her work.

            All it took for Byakuya to be quietly exasperated with a subordinate was for them to make a fairly trivial error, such as forgetting to correct their stance or using blue ink instead of black. But far from vexation, he smiled to himself as he carefully removed the _kenseikan_ from his hair completely, handing them to Ichika to explore.

            She set them back on his head. They fell off immediately. He handed them back to her. She tried again. They fell. He gave them back. She put them on _her_ head. They fell off. She got them back. They repeated this cycle for a few minutes, Ichika trying to affix them to her own hair, before Byakuya turned his head slightly so that he could address her, “Do you want help, Ichika?”

            The four-year-old sighed, frustrated, “Yes, please,” she answered politely (Rukia had fostered a healthy love and respect for Byakuya in her daughter, though she hadn’t had to do much).

            He helped Ichika slide down and gestured that she should sit next to him. She did so obediently, and Byakuya went to work. He pulled the bandana out of her ponytail, handing it to her. While he carefully threaded her red hair through each section of the hairpiece, Ichika tied the bandana around the topmost part of Seaweed Ambassador’s head.

            When he was done, Ichika reached up to touch the _kenseikan_ in her hair. Without a word, she darted out of the room. Byakuya barely had time to be bewildered before she came back with a mirror in hand, admiring his handiwork while grinning a toothy smile. Turning back to her uncle, she smoothed her face in what appeared to be an attempt at calm before saying evenly, “I thank you.”

            Though her imitation was a far cry from Byakuya’s somber, deep voice, he couldn’t help but breath out a rare laugh. And when Rukia and Renji came to pick her up an hour later, the _kenseikan_ still perfect in her hair, he had to turn his face and cover another smirk at Renji’s dumbfounded expression and Rukia’s adoring exclamations at the little girl’s new hairstyle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How expensive do you think kenseikan are? Byakuya would probably give her dozens to play with and inevitably break and not think twice.


	3. 188 cm

            Ichika was growing up, as all children do. ‘ _And_ ,’ Renji noted a little dejectedly as he watched her sleep, ‘ _she’s growing out of things, too_.’ It was all happening so fast. Ten years ago, they had taken care of the Quincy threat and peace had returned to the Soul Society. Eight years ago, he and Rukia had gotten married. And seven years ago, Ichika had been born.

            It all felt like it had happened mere months ago. Though, that was part of the deal with having a prolonged lifespan—what felt like years to a human passed in the blink of an eye to a soul reaper. But Ichika launched through life, and fascinations, with an unwavering vitality.

            From birth, she had been clothed in rabbit-themed everything. Renji had been loath to persuade Rukia into toning it down, and absolutely _powerless_ to prevent his daughter’s favorite character from being his captain’s (now brother-in-law. Yeesh.) weird seaweed creation. But once she started being able to choose her own tastes, she had turned away from the cutesier merchandise. She still doodled with Rukia on Chappy stationary and slept with her Seaweed Ambassador doll, but now she was more interested in learning how to be a soul reaper than anything else.

            Had someone asked him a few years ago, “Bet you can’t wait until your kid gets out of that phase, huh?” he would have fervently agreed. But now that he was witnessing it happen…it was too quick. Where was the toddler running towards him in her rabbit hoodie? The little yukata decorated with carrots? She was throwing herself, as much as a seven-year-old could, into training to reap souls and fight Hollows.

            He was proud, of course. His kid was going to kick some major ass! Ichigo’s kid wouldn’t stand a chance. He derived a ridiculous amount of pleasure from sending his friend pictures of Ichika attacking a bush with her wooden sword with the caption, “She’s coming for you.” Ichigo would see for himself when they went down to the World of the Living in a few weeks. But he was still lamenting the impending loss of his daughter’s childhood.

            There were still some things, though, that she wasn’t even close to growing out of. Most kids had trouble breaking the habit of sucking their thumbs. Not Ichika. Ichika’s equivalent to thumb-sucking was shoulder-sitting. Rukia had started it and Byakuya had perpetuated it, but given a choice, Ichika always went straight for her dad. She was a _total_ daddy’s girl. Renji didn’t think life got much better than meeting Rukia after work at the Squad 13 barracks, holding onto Ichika’s legs so that she wouldn’t slip off his shoulders, and walking home together, hand-in-hand with the woman he loved and the daughter he adored.

            In truth, Renji suspected Ichika preferred sitting on his shoulders because he was the tallest. When he took her around, she towered over virtually everyone. She _loved_ heights. Try playing hide-and-seek with a four-year-old who likes to leap onto roofs and climb to the highest tree branch sometime. Books on parenting hadn’t exactly covered what to do when you find your child who could barely speak in full sentences hanging upside-down from the tallest building at the Kuchiki manor. Heights weren’t the only reason she stuck to Renji, though.

            Ever since was able to grab (which is to say, _the day she was born_ ), she had grabbed onto Renji’s hair. They had never been able to quite figure it out, but Ichika had always been obsessed with trying to style his hair. To an infant, “styling” meant hanging on for dear life and coming away with a couple (or more) of red strands. To a six-year-old, “styling” meant attempting to put his hair into its characteristic ponytail, and ending up with a mess that was more tangled than it had been before it was brushed. Consequently, Renji had started wearing his hair in a long braid, more often than not paired with a bandana, to keep it neat even when Ichika got to it. In exchange, he had helped Ichika learn how to do her own hair.

            Now, she would wake up in the morning and, all by herself, choose her clothes for the day and sweep her hair up into a ponytail with one of her dad’s old bandanas to secure it. Even though she had grown out of Chappy-everything, she still preferred pastels, and even though she had stopped needing to carry around Seaweed Ambassador everywhere, she had switched to following her uncle around everywhere when they were at the manor.

            When Rukia saw her daughter trailing Byakuya with a white bandana holding her hair up in Renji’s old style, she always felt a few tears threatening to spill, wondering how she got so lucky. When Renji saw it all—his brother-in-law entertaining Ichika, his wife filling out the remainder of her impending captainship forms with a Chappy pen, his daughter, now too large to sit on shoulders, clambering onto his back monkey-style—he wondered the same. Despite the struggles and the heartbreaks and the healing it had taken to get to where they were, he was grateful for feeling like he had won the grand prize of all grand prizes. Every day he felt like he was sitting on top of the world, and the view was absolutely perfect.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard somewhere that Ichika is supposed to be 9. If that's true, I am changing it for my fics. SHE'S 7 TO ME. 
> 
> Thanks for reading all the way through! I hope you enjoyed it! ヾ(≧∇≦)ゞ


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